Dark Side
by MissDoubleONinja
Summary: Everyone thinks Alfed F. Jones is an idiot. But what they don't know is that he has another side, a much darker side, when comes out only when he snaps. Well, today he snapped. The reason? You. 2P!AmericaXReader
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

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_Everyone saw Alfred F. Jones as an idiot, though it was hard not to. Prancing around, smiling and shoving hamburgers down his throat as he yelled about god know what. Really, who wouldn't?_

_But what everyone didn't know was that Alfred had another side of him, a much darker side, which made sense; there's no way he could be such a powerful nation if he was a complete idiot._

_The other side of him was his exact opposite; cunning, bloodthirsty, extremely unforgiving. It was that side of him that won bloody wars, that made him one of the strongest nations in the world._

_However, he never let that side come out unless he absolutly had to; he was the hero, after all, and no hero used the power of a villian to get the job done. Sometimes, though, he couldn't help it; the rage and pain inside would become too much and he would snap, releasing his dark side. Which is why he always tried to be cheerfull and disgustingly happy, to protect the people around him._

_But today was one of those days, when he lost it and his dark side took over. The reason?_

_You._

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At the moment, there were only two things on your mind: chocolate and a ticket straight out of here.

It was time for the world meeting again and, as usual, no one would shut up. It was starting to give you a headache, which is why you were trying to think about nice things, less obnoxious things.

Sitting up straight, your eyes darted around the room, occasionally landing on one of the countries, before you located the clock. A sigh of immense relief escaped your lips; excellent, only twenty more minutes until you were allowed to indulge in manga and ice cream.

Your eyes met Alfred's baby blue ones and you smiled, giving him the thumbs up sign. He shot back a toothy grin.

"You seem to be quite happy, love."

You turned to grin at your British boyfriend sitting next to you. "Well, of course I am Arther." You replied, leaning on his shoulder. "This stupid meeting ends in twenty minutes."

He lightly kissed you on the forehead, smiling when he saw you blush. "I suppose I can see why. I want to leave this bloody meeting as well." His smile widened. "And, by the way, do you know how adorable you look when you blush?" The red covering your cheeks darkened.

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The American's grin faded as quickly as it came and was replaced by a scowl. Oh, that's right, you were dating that guy, weren't you? Mr. Arther I-always-have-a-stick-up-my-ass Kirkland, representative of England.

It was a fact Alfred resented, due to his super sized crush on you. Yet no matter what he did, you never seemed to see him as anything more than a friend. And it drove him absolutly nuts.

Just seeing the Brit hold your hand or make you blush sparked 2P!Alfred's rage. The American always kept his rage until control, but now...Well, let's just say it wasn't getting better.

**AFTER THE MEETING...**

The American's fingertips glided over the rough leather of the books as he searched. He finally touched a large, black scrapbook and he smiled sadly.

Removing the book from the shelf, Alfred crashed on the couch and flipped to the first page. You were standing next to a grinning Alfred, a frozen smile plastered to your face as you flashed a peace sign. The American silently flipped through the scrapbook; it was full of pictures you took with him and he treasured each and everyone of them.

It was then that he reached a blank page. Of course, all the pages from there needed to be filled; it was around the time you started dating Arther when you took less pictures and spent less time with him.

He abrutly slammed the scrapbook shut, his fingers curled into such tight fists that he drew blood as he glared daggers. It just wasn't fair! Alfred had always been there for you, always! It was him you should've fallen for, not Arther!

If only that stupid Brit would just die...

Wait, what?

What the hell brought that on? He felt a sharp pain in his side and gasped, falling off the couch. Barely holding himself up by his hands and knees, he continued to feel sharp pains.

_Kill him. _

"N-No..." The American gasped. Shit, his 2P! was coming! Shit, shit, shit!

_KILL HIM! You know you want to..._

"NO!" Alfred shrieked. "No, shut up!" He slowly felt himself fade away. "Shit..." He breathed before falling into the black.

For a moment, he lay still on the floor. But then he got back up, blood red eyes flashing dangerously. He took a quick look around before smirking. "It's certainly been a while since I came out."

He walked over to the closet, throwing the door open. He gently picked up a baseball bat covered in lethal looking nails, cradling it like it was his newborn son. He swung in around a couple times, his dangerous smirk growing. "Haven't used this in a while."

Keeping a firm grip on the baseball bat, he grabbed a pair of shades and slid them on, effectivly hiding his eyes. "Oh, Artherrrrrrr." He cooed, flashing an evil grin that showed off his shark-like teeth.

"Alfie's not lettin' you win that easily..."

**TO BE CONTINUED!**

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	2. Chapter 2

**WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH**

Words did figure eight's across the old pages as blearly emerald green eyes tried to read them. Perhaps it wasn't healthy to be up this late, but Arther didn't really care; so far, each and every one of his spells have ended in failure. Which is why he was reading spell books, so he could hopefully get better.

With a sigh, the blond slammed the large book shut, coughing when he was hit by the dust from the book. He placed it on top of the other books and stood up, smoothing out his clothes. It was getting pretty late, and he had a date with you tomorrow, so he needed to be awake and chipper- or, at least, as chipper as Arther could get.

There was a sudden knock on the door, surprising the Brit. Who the bloody hell would be coming to his house at this hour? "Yo, Arther! It's Alfred, open up!"

Raising his eyebrows, the Brit opened the door. Something hard- a fist?- slammed into his nose, the force sending Arther flying. He hit the wall with a sickening crack and slowly slid down, blinded by the white hot pain "A-Alfred!" He managed to force out. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Nice to see you too." He replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The pain fading, Arther tilted his head upward to look at the American, and noticed that he did look different. His hair had a more reddish tint to it, his eyes were hidden by black shades, and he held a baseball bat covered in nails and red. Arther shivered. "A-Alfred...What's going on!"

"Well, that's a funny story" He replied, taking agonizingly slow steps toward the terrified Brit. "See, normal Alfred's all pissy cause you're dating _. Got so mad that I came out." The American grinned, flashing his razor sharp teeth "Though I'll admit, for once, I agree with that idiot. I can't let you live."

Arther's face drained of color, his eyes widening in horror. "Alfred, n-!"

There was a blur and the Brit screamed in pain, blood gushing from his wounds, his head cracked open. The light faded from his eyes at an alarming rate and soon he was still. In a matter of seconds, the might United Kingdom was dead.

"It's not Alfred." He whispered darkly, wiping some of Arther's blood off his cheek.

"It's Al."

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The American rapped his knuckles against your door, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited. The door flew open, revealing you- though you weren't exactly in the best condition. Your hair was an absolute mess and your eyes were puffy and red from all the crying you'd done. "Hey, what's wrong _?" Al asked, feigning innocent curiosity.

You lunged at the American, burying your face in his chest as you began to cry again "Oh, A-Alfred! It's terrible! T-The police c-came to my house an h-hour ago and t-they told me Arther was d-d-d-dead!" You wailed, gasping for breath.

Al pulled you closer, burying his face in your hair. "Yeah, I know. But don't worry _, I'll help you get through this."

You let out a soft whimper as you let your eyes flutter shut. "I just want to know who did it..." You didn't see the maniacal grin that twisted the blond's features.

Oh, irony was so sweet, especially when it was soaked with blood.

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	3. Chapter 3

Thick, hot tears silently streaked down your flushed cheeks as you watched Arthur's casket be lowered into the ground.

Al noticed your tears and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. You shot Al a watery smile, grateful for the comfort, though it faded the moment reality hit you. Arthur Kirkland, your beloved boyfriend, was dead. He was dead, and he wasn't coming back. The shock hadn't hit you the first time you saw his broken, bloody body. Not even the lack of emotion in his green eyes convinced you.

But now, now that you saw his body buried, you knew he was dead. Pulling away from Al's grasp, you slowly walked over to Arthur's grave, almost as if you were in a trance, and knelt down. "I'm sorry, Arthur." You whispered, trying to force a shakey smile, for the sake of your dearly departed boyfriend. "I love you so much."

Then your breath hitched, tears began to fall once again and, before you knew it, you were sobbing your heart out.

It took Al quite a while to pull you away from Arthur's grave, and even longer to convince you to get in his car. You agreed to spend the night at his house without much fuss, though; your house held too many painful memories you couldn't bear to face.

So now you were sitting on his couch, telling the American how you felt about this. "I miss him, Alfred." You confessed, keeping your eyes glued to the hot cocoa the American gave you. "I miss everything about him, his voice, the way he held me in his arms, the way he laughed...Why did he have to die?" A tear ran down your cheek.

The American leaned forward and kissed it. "I can help you forget, you know." He offered, getting a little too close for comfort. "Take those memories and replace them with pleasent ones."

You looked up from the cocoa, frowning. "Afred, if you mean what I think you mean, no. I'm just not ready for something like that right now."

The American smirked. "Well, I tried askin' nicely." Suddenly, Al lunged, pinning you to the couch. The mug hit the floor, shattering, spilling hot chocolate, though the American hardly seemed to notice as he began to kiss your neck.

"What do you think you're doing?!" You screamed, your cheeks turning bright red. "Alfred, I said no!" You gasped sharply when his teeth clamped down on your neck, leaving a bright red mark.

He licked the blood from your fresh wound, looking into your shocked eyes with a smirk. "Babe, I don't give a damn. I've been waiting far too long for this to not do it. 'Sides, I had to get red of him too, and that took some extra effort."

Your eyes widened. "You-You don't mean-?!" You couldn't believe it; sweet, happy Alfred? He wouldn't do such a thing!

"That's right." His smirk widened, showing off his shark like teeth. "I murdered Arthur Kirkland."

Oh god! "Alfred, why?!" The smirk slid off his face and, with no warning, harshly slammed his lips against yours. Pulling away just as quickly, he glared. "It's Al, not Alfed. Don't you ever call me that again!" His hands moved to your shirt, unbuttoning it.

You bit your tounge, trying to hold back tears; you refused to let him see you cry. You remembered Arthur told you once about the darker side all countries possessed, calling them the 2p!'s. All those times of Alfred blushing in your presense suddenly made sense. If only you'd noticed his feelings before, Arthur wouldn't be dead.

If you'd noticed, you wouldn't have awakened the dark side.

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